9/12/09
A sober lesson in the dangers of candles and poorly designed/constructed houses. Last night around 10 pm I heard shouts coming from the area below (south) of my house. There was nothing too exceptional about that, except they did seem more numerous than might be expected from such small paths on such a dark night, but they didn't sound unduly urgent. But then, as I went to close the kitchen door before going to bed I realised there was some sort of fire in the compound just three or four hundred yards behind (east) my house – I could see what was happening because of the trees and thick undergrowth between my house and the other compound, but that it was more than your average cooking or campfire was evident from the bright orange which was beginning to fill the air and it was apparent that the people shouting on the paths below were gradually converging on this compound. By now, though my view was still obscured, I could tell there was a huge, ten foot high, intense orange fire raging over there, lighting up an otherwise very dark night and the roar of it was loud even from my distance. I tried to imagine what was happening and hoped it wasn't someone's house – but it was hard to think of what else it could be. I briefly wondered if it would be possible to get water across there (my 1,000 litre cistern is probably the only small water supply in a quarter mile radius at least) but the roaring noise and height of the fire told me that whatever was burning was long past saving. There seemed little point joining what was probably a large crowd of onlookers in the darkness, so, as the fire began to die down I went to bed anyway.
This morning I learnt of the sad details behind the fire. Someone had placed lit a candle and set it down, but not carefully enough (it probably was a thin ½ inch diameter type and most likely not in any sort of holder). After a while it fell over and, before anyone reacted, the cardboard lining the walls of this tin house caught fire. Two children and their mother ran outside, but once outside the mother realised the third child wasn't with them (probably asleep). She rushed back into the house to pick up the youngest but by the time she'd found him the doorway was already engulfed in flames. As is so common with these tin houses, it had only one door to the outside and no windows. In the darkness and no doubt the terror, and holding a small child, the mother had no way or time to hack through the tin, even if she had a machete to hand. Today a mother and child are dead and two other children orphaned because of a carelessly placed candle and a house constructed of flammable materials with no windows and only one exit door. And sadly, I doubt that anyone will learn the lesson.